


Spice of Life

by imyourplusone



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Holiday one-shot, Spicy Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 03:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13158645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imyourplusone/pseuds/imyourplusone
Summary: She’s gazing toward the fireplace and wondering why it didn’t occur to her to light it. Why so many things haven’t occurred to her until lately, but at least they are now.Taking a sip of wine, she turns and gives him a look that he’ll be recalling quite a lot in the coming days. “I think we’ve simmered enough.”





	Spice of Life

**Author's Note:**

> Holiday one-shot in which Lizzy makes a plan and Red surrenders. Again. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

When Liz hears the knock there is an immediate snicker. He had purposely bypassed the doorbell preferring the sharp staccato of his knuckles rapping against her door. She can read him like a book and is already visualizing his expression.  
  
She takes a moment to cover the soup she’s been stirring on the stove and pours a second glass of wine, the glass having been set out earlier as she already knew this visit was a foregone conclusion. With a glance at the clock she’s only surprised it has taken him this long to drop by.  
  
“Raymond,” she says, opening the door and greeting him with a dazzling smile. “What a surprise.”  
  
He hesitates a moment as his mouth draws into a line and she fights the urge to laugh at the very expression she had imagined.  
  
“Lizzy, a word if you please.”  
  
Taking a step to the side, she ushers him in and watches as the fedora is removed but not his coat. Her smile falters for a moment wishing he felt more at ease in her home but it is back in place when he turns and they face each other across her kitchen.  
  
“I’ve had a call from Agent Mojtabai.”  
  
“Yes, I know.”  
  
“You...you know.”  
  
Not a question but a statement of fact and she leans back against the counter since he doesn’t seem inclined to sit.  
  
“I do. I told him it was okay.”  
  
“And why would you think—”  
  
“I spoke with Dembe and he said you had no plans to leave for the holidays so there was no reason for you not to be included.”  
  
His astonishment is quite theatrical and she could almost feel sorry for him for not being in control for once. But she doesn’t in the least and besides, it will do him good.  
  
“Included in the Task Force’s Secret Santa? Lizzy, for god’s sake, do I look like a Secret Santa sort of person?”  
  
She really didn’t think his eyebrows would raise that high and decides to take matters into her own hands.  
  
“That you could be the giver and receiver of gifts? Yes, I absolutely know you are that sort of person.” Coming to stand in front of him, she holds out a hand and waits.  
  
“I don’t understand,” he says at last, unsure what she is wanting from him.  
  
“I know and I’m sorry about that. Your scarf and coat please. It’s usually customary to remove such garments while inside.”  
  
“I hadn’t thought I would be here long,” and glancing at the table set for two behind him, he’s beginning to regret dropping in unexpectedly. “Besides, it seems you’re expecting company so we can continue this at a later time.”  
  
“We can continue the argument over dinner since _you’re_ the company. Scarf and coat please,” she finishes, still holding out her hand.  
  
He complies and when she returns, hands him the glass of wine that he realizes was already there waiting for him.  
  
“I don’t want to fight,” he says quietly, not quite sure what is happening.  
  
Taking her glass, she clinks it with his. “I’ll drink to that.”  
  
They take a sip and he is wondering how his day is ending with wine and Lizzy while she is wondering about the soup.  
  
“Raymond, come taste this and tell me what you think.”  
  
He follows her to the stove and waits as she dips a spoon in and holds it up for him.  
  
“Did you make this yourself?”  
  
She gives him that look as only she can. “You don’t have to sound so surprised.”  
  
“What kind is it?” he asks with a curious look into the pot.  
  
“Loaded potato.”  
  
“Loaded with what?”  
  
“Now look—”  
  
He chuckles and takes her hand to steady the spoon as he takes a sip. “I jest, Lizzy. I also apologize. This is wonderful.”  
  
“That’s better. But do you think it’s missing a little something.”  
  
“Hmmm, perhaps….”  
  
Opening the cabinet in front of him, he quickly shuts it not finding what he is looking for and moves around her to the other side. “Good heavens,” he murmurs when he opens the door to bottle after bottle of every spice imaginable. “What on earth?”  
  
“Well, I’ve been planning this for awhile and wanted to be prepared.”  
  
Prepared for what he has no idea but after rummaging around a bit he finally finds the bottle he seeks. “A little rosemary will finish it nicely, I think.”  
  
“I don’t know,” she says skeptically, suddenly feeling protective of her creation. “The recipe didn’t call for—”  
  
“Lizzy, trust me. You have to cook outside the box at times. Now, only a dash will do or it will overpower the other ingredients.”  
  
“A dash? Can you give me that in teaspoon terms?”  
  
Apparently she’ll have to wait for the conversion as he shakes a small amount into the palm of his hand, rubs them together and sprinkles the dried leaves into her soup.  
   
“Now give that a stir and let it simmer.”  
  
With a shrug she replaces the lid and taking her wine, moves to the sofa in the sitting area. He follows her lead and she is pleased that he chooses the other end and not the chair across from her.  
  
“Maybe I’ll put up a tree this year,” she says after a few minutes. “I haven’t had one since…”  
  
Since before, but she leaves the words unspoken not wanting to bring those memories here to her new home. “And perhaps hang a picture or two.”  
  
“You should. It would help make it feel—“  
  
“Less sterile.”  
  
“I was going to say more homey.” He follows her eyes around the room and continues, “Your apartment does have an unlived-in quality to it.”  
  
“It hasn’t been lived in, not really,” she concedes quietly. “Not yet anyway.”  
  
He’s watching her now, curious at the melancholy that has descended. “Is that the reason for the cooking? You said you’ve been planning it for awhile.”  
  
“Yes, I suppose so. I’m tired of feeling like I live at the Post Office and only sleep here. I need to try something different.”  
  
She’s gazing toward the fireplace and wondering why it didn’t occur to her to light it. Why so many things haven’t occurred to her until lately, but at least they are now. He’s studying her but she isn’t ready to meet his eye and takes a minute or two to make a mental note of a few things she will be changing in her sitting room for next time. Because there is definitely going to be a next time, of that she is sure.  
  
Taking a sip of wine, she turns and gives him a look that he’ll be recalling quite a lot in the coming days. “I think we’ve simmered enough.”  
  
There go his eyebrows again and she laughs as she rises. “The soup, Raymond. Let’s eat.”  
  
He’ll also be wondering about that comment but for now they eat. She brings the bread she picked up at the shop down the block and tells him to shush when he asks if she is a baker as well.  
   
“I might just try that next, you never know. There is also pie unless you have another comment.” But she is smiling and soon a second bottle of wine is opened and they sit at the table talking long after dinner is over.  
  
Until he remembers why he came here in the first place before all this distraction.  
  
“Just because you’ve plied me with soup and pie doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten your role in this Secret Santa business.”  
  
But she will not be swayed and offers no sympathy. “You’re taking part. If only for the simple reason we have all worked together for years now and there is absolutely no reason why you shouldn’t. End of story.”  
  
_Oh, that’s not the end of the story._  
  
Not even close.  
  
They could not have thought it possible that one day they would be here after all the painful days since he spoke those words to her. Whatever _here_ is, it certainly feels better than where they started.  
  
He gives up the fight and surrenders.  
  
As only she has the power to make him do.

* * *

  
A week later and it is time for round two of her plan.  
  
“Aram, I’m headed home but wanted to make sure you were going to call him this evening. Five sharp, okay?”  
  
“Sure, but if you’d rather tell him yourself—“  
  
“Oh no, this should definitely come from you. Besides, he always enjoys hearing from you.”  
  
“Really?” he asks with a proud smile. “Because sometimes it seems—”  
  
“He does, I promise. Five sharp.”  
  
With a wave she is gone, zipping toward the elevator with purpose. Her first half day off on a Friday in longer than she can remember and she plans to make the most of it.  
  
Several hours later she is at the stove and hoping for the best. She is also wondering if she should change since coming home in a rush and kicking off her boots to begin whipping the ingredients together. She decides it’s best to keep it casual or he’ll know straight away this set-up is a set-up and opts for a sweater in place of her usual jacket and blouse.  
  
That should do it and she takes a few minutes to check that everything is in place when the rapping at her door makes her start. Ah yes, just before six and right on time.  
  
She is met with the identical expression he wore a week ago and she once more stifles a laugh. “Raymond, this is a surprise.”  
  
The roll of his eyes is amazingly dramatic as he waltzes past her removing his fedora as he steps across the threshold. She follows and can’t help but smile when she sees the scarf and coat follow.  
  
“I highly doubt that. I didn’t think this situation could possibly get worse but I’ve been proved wrong.”  
  
She steps forward to hand him his wine glass that was once again waiting and asks with all the seriousness she can muster, “Is this about a blacklister? Should I gather the task force?”  
  
“You already know, don’t you? And you didn’t feel it necessary to give me some type of warning?”  
  
There’s nothing to do but resume her place from the week prior and stepping back, she leans against the counter. Here they are again. Facing each other across the kitchen.  
  
“Now don’t overreact—”  
  
“Ressler. Apparently I’ve gotten Ressler in the Secret Santa.”  
  
He really is making it difficult not to laugh watching him so completely out of sorts at the daunting prospect of selecting a gift for Donald Ressler.  
  
But this is really too much fun so….  
  
“Raymond, I think that is meant to be a secret.’  
  
“I know perfectly well how a Secret Santa works, Lizzy. Who did you get?”  
  
“Well, I’m not sure I should say.”  
  
He is positively glowering at this point and she decides to give him a break. Also, she is getting rather hungry after skipping lunch earlier.  
  
“I got Cooper and before you ask me to trade the answer is no.”  
  
He closes his mouth as those very words die on his lips. How does he get himself into these situations he’d very much like to know. But Lizzy is smiling and something is bubbling on the stove and there is wine which he stops to take a sip of. Yes, a very nice selection and he gives up. Again. What else can he do?  
  
“What’s cooking? Should I assume that extra place setting is for me?” he asks after a deep breath.  
  
“Butternut Squash and yes you should.”  
  
“Excellent.” He comes to her side and waits as she dips a spoon into the soup.  
   
“Careful, it’s hot,” she whispers as he takes her hand to taste this week’s concoction.  
  
“Heavenly. You’ve really outdone yourself.”  
  
“But does it need—”  
  
“Perhaps just a little…”  
  
He moves behind her to the spice cabinet, running his hand across her back along the way and she’s thinks that cooking was an excellent idea. After sifting through the multitude of containers for several minutes he finally finds the one. “Ah, here we go.”  
  
“Cayenne pepper? Not on your life.”  
  
“Just a smidge, Lizzy. Trust me, it’ll give it a nice zing.”  
  
Looking at him over her soup, she comes to the realization of two important facts. First, she really does trust him and second, they could use a zing.  
  
“I don’t know how to cook in smidges and dashes but go for it.”  
  
This makes him chuckle and soon it is simmering away.  
  
“Well, what is this,” he says when he turns to look at her and finally takes in the sitting area beyond.  
  
The fire is lit tonight and there’s quite a large Christmas tree twinkling at him near the door leading to the balcony. And something else is different as he studies the room. Books in the shelves and a vase he’s never seen before sitting on the mantle.  
  
He moves to take a closer look and she follows, stopping next to him. Without a second thought he puts an arm around her shoulder and gives her a squeeze. “This is wonderful, Elizabeth.”  
  
“I thought it's about time I unpacked a little and settle in. I’m not sure why it’s taken this long.”  
  
“Sometimes feeling at home takes a very long time. Sometimes it never comes at all,” he murmurs.  
  
_I see my way home._  
  
His words come back to her immediately. How often she has thought about them, felt the weight of their impact not quite knowing where they should reside but unwilling to let them go.  
  
She finally understands their full meaning.  
  
“It’s a start, at least. I realized I didn’t keep any of my old ornaments when I left the brownstone,” she hesitates a moment then continues. “So I just kept adding more lights. Ornaments next year, I guess.”  
  
“I like it just the way it is, but did you wrangle that thing in here by yourself? You should have called me.”  
  
“But I wanted to have it up for when you came over tonight and besides—”  
  
She stops abruptly realizing what she’s said and his soft laugh soon follows. “Either you really have been plotting or I’m incredibly predictable.”  
  
“Perhaps a bit of both, Raymond. Do you mind?”  
  
She turns to face him and his hand runs from her shoulder down her arm before dropping to his side and she swears she feels the warm trail of his touch through her sweater. Misses it when the contact is broken.  
  
“Not in the least.”  
  
God, she loves the way his voice drops low like that. Like a mug of cider. Warm and cozy with just enough spice to...  
  
“Lizzy?”  
  
She blinks and sees him looking at her curiously. “What?”  
  
“I asked if you thought it had simmered enough?”  
  
“Oh, we’re getting there.”  
  
He has the feeling they aren’t talking about the soup even as she moves past him to the kitchen to remove it from the stove. Has no idea what exactly brought on this shift in tone but perhaps it really is as simple as this one fact. Things have simmered enough. What has always been there brewing under the surface is finally ready to be acknowledged. He’d have never thought it would be an office Secret Santa that would bring it about, but watching her, he’s realizing she’s the one who set it in motion and decided to have some fun in the process. He wouldn’t have it any other way.  
  
“Don’t think this lets you off the hook in any way,” he calls to her. “Unbelievable that it has come to this. Buying a gift for Ressler of all people.”  
  
She gives him a wave with the soup ladle but doesn’t turn. “We’ll think of something. We could do a little window shopping tomorrow. See if something catches your eye.”  
  
Something has most definitely caught his eye and it’s this image of them in her home. Preparing dinner, talking about the day and making plans for the next. Something he would hardly ever let himself imagine. There were glimpses of it, of course. When they were running but with the future so uncertain it was difficult to believe those moments would last. That they could somehow connect to the next small moment until they had collected enough of them to form a life together.  
  
Difficult even now to trust in the permanence of this path they’ve carved out for themselves but he finds that he can. How simple it is to take hold and let everything else go.  
  
“You ready?” she asks, with a glance over her shoulder.  
  
“Most definitely.”

* * *

  
“Admit it, it wasn’t so bad,” she whispers coming to stand next to him as he waits for the elevator.  
  
The holiday party is in full swing behind them and despite every reason within him for why he shouldn’t attend, attend he did. For a little while, at least. Long enough to make a circuit of the room, receive his Secret Santa and give one in return. He is now in possession of a rather loud tie from Agent Navabi who assured him could not be traced using a diblock copolymer nanoparticle marker. Agent Ressler now possesses box seats to a hockey team Red has never heard of but Aram and Lizzy assured him this was the way to go so he took their advice and went with it.  
  
Especially since their window shopping excursion consisted mainly of stopping into a cheese shop for a few selections, then onto Lizzy’s favorite bakery. Next they happened upon a small gourmet market which luckily carried his favorite fig chutney.  
  
“For the cheese. You’ll love it,” when he caught her dubious expression.  
  
“Hmmm well, I’m going to look for grapes.”  
  
When the snow began to fall in the early afternoon they decided they’d had enough of the crowded sidewalks and returned home. Her home to be exact and it seems more so everyday. Gone is the formality from before as he drops his coat and scarf on the back of the chair. His jacket soon follows and by the time he had the fire going and the tree lit his sleeves were rolled up and his tie was nowhere to be seen.  
  
“What are you smiling at?” he had asked, finding her watching him.  
  
“You.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Not sure how to respond or how to interpret her expression, he had stood near the fire with his hand in his pockets, rocking back and forth which only broadened her smile. And not knowing how to adequately explain that such a small thing as him becoming more relaxed in her home could make her happy, she hadn’t tried.  
  
“You feel like eating in here where it’s warm?”  
  
He had agreed and soon their shoes were off with their feet stretched toward the fire as they sat on the floor leaning back against the sofa. Again, he can’t believe they have turned the corner that led them here. How often he had wished for it but when it came he never realized it had passed until they were on the other side. He can’t imagine ever going back again.  
  
But now, staring at the closed elevator doors, he’s worried.  
  
With the Secret Santa a done deal as well as her plotting and maneuvering he can’t help but wonder what should happen now. What new plan she may have in store and if there isn’t one should he be thinking of something and why must it be so difficult?  
  
When she joins him, there is the faintest smile that he makes sure is directed at the elevator. “Not bad at all, Lizzy. I never thought otherwise.”  
  
He can all but feel the roll of her eyes and his laugh that follows is just loud enough for her to hear.  
  
“You don’t have to leave so early, you know.”  
  
“I think this is enough fraternizing for one night but I’ll concede it was a nice gesture.”  
  
“It’s a beginning, I suppose,” and before he can ask _the beginning of what?_ she takes a closer look at the elevator. “Is this thing broken?”  
  
“I didn’t press the button. I was hoping you’d spot me over here and come say goodnight.”  
  
That he can say it with a straight face has her laughing despite the throng of FBI agents behind them. “That was a devious plan, Reddington.”  
  
“You’d know all about devious plans, Elizabeth.”  
  
She reaches across to press the button and the doors open immediately, much quicker than she had intended and he steps forward, turning to face her. Suddenly she finds herself doing the same. Just close enough that the doors stay ajar and they watch each other no longer caring who may have taken notice.  
  
“Do you—”  
  
“Would you—”  
  
They stop having spoken at the same time and Lizzy makes a decision. Taking another step, she lets the doors close behind her.  
  
“What were you going to ask?’  
  
It quite escapes him now that she is standing so close but something along the lines of, “Would you like to walk? I’m sure we can catch a cab? Dembe is staying for awhile so he’ll have the Mercedes but it’s a mild night and I’m sure we—”  
  
“Raymond.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“You took the words right out of my mouth.”  
  
When she steps next to him and turns to wait for the doors to open, she gives him a small nudge in his side and is rewarded with a chuckle.  
  
But they soon realize _mild_ by DC standards is still very cold and Liz had left without her coat.  
  
“Here, put this around you,” but she stops him removing his own coat, taking his scarf instead.  
  
“This will do.”  
  
He glances in frustration up and down the quiet street muttering, “They really went out of their way to put the Post Office as out of the way as possible.”  
  
“You know it was once a postal—”  
  
“Yes, Lizzy, I get the general idea.” which immediately makes her laugh.  
  
“I’ll arrange an Uber. Trust me,” she says, taking out her phone and already seeing his question forming.  
  
“Why didn’t you call a car blocks ago and will you please take my coat?”  
  
She ignores him and soon deposits her phone back in her pocket. “Did you also know there is a four block perimeter surrounding the facility that includes video surveillance?”  
  
“Yes, I…”  
  
He falters seeing her smile in the dim light of the streetlight and decides to stop worrying about the car or the cold.  
  
“We’ve walked five in case you weren’t counting,” she whispers as she steps forward to slide her arms under his coat and on around his back.  
  
Five blocks and a lifetime from where they began.  
  
“The coast is clear, Raymond.”  
  
It most certainly is as he brings his arms around her, wrapping them in his coat. Was this what she had in mind all along but there is no time to ask as she drives away every thought. How easy it is to fall into this kiss that has been waiting for them. Always there waiting.  
  
“Mmmm, you taste like spiced rum and cookies,” she whispers.  
  
“My goodness, Agent Keen, what a comment to make to a criminal.”  
  
She laughs and pulls him closer to lay her head just there above his heart. Knowing it no longer matters what was taken away but what he has given that makes her hold on.  
  
“I love it when a plan comes together.”  
  
“Elizabeth, feel free to make any additional plans that come to mind.”  
  
And he can feel her laughter, just there above his heart.

* * *

  
They already knew without asking.  
  
That he would spend the holiday with her in her apartment with the tree that still hasn’t any ornaments. Walls that will require a picture or two at some point. Book shelves that have plenty of room to share. But it really is coming along nicely more and more all the time.  
  
No sharp rap against the door today, but the doorbell that she was waiting for. No need to remove the layers as he was already holding his coat along with several other bags and packages. He is only a few steps inside before he stops, noticing her dress.  
  
“You are lovely, Elizabeth. _Red_ becomes you, I think.”  
  
“Yes, I’m sure you do think,” she says arching a brow at him, but she is pleased as the faintest color rises in her cheeks.  
  
There is something new on the menu today as it is his turn to do the cooking and she gladly gives up the responsibility of the kitchen. Something completely untraditional and that is just fine as far as they are concerned because it brings back a memory. One of the few good ones from their time on the run. A Wednesday and special for no other reason that they had a few days of relative safety in a house in the North Carolina mountains or was it Virginia?  
  
She only remembers the happiness of staying in one place for more days in a row then when that whole terrible odyssey had begun. How they tried so hard to make it seem normal. The way he had slipped into town for supplies and surprised her with quite a grand dinner that night. She doesn’t really remember exactly what he cooked. Something with pasta but she recalls exactly how she felt, the music that played and the warmth of the summer night when they went out to sit on the porch.  
  
How they came so close, so very close to crossing over that night but they backed away. There was too much at stake, too much to lose and each feared upsetting the precarious balance they had arrived at.  
  
He must also have been thinking of the same memory when he asked what he should prepare for he already knew her answer.  
  
_Do you remember that night in the mountains when you made—_  
  
_Say no more, Lizzy. I know just the one you mean._  
  
They both realize exactly what they’re doing. Trying to reclaim what was lost. That bit of happiness from a stolen moment but it’s already here with them, only deeper and more meaningful now that they have so many to connect together.  
  
“We never said anything about gifts,” she says as he hands her the rather large box when they had finished dinner. After they piled the dishes in the sink opting for the couch instead.  
  
“Just open the box.”  
  
“Okay,” and with a laugh she tears into it and lifting the lid, pulls back when she realizes what it contains.  
  
“Don’t look so stricken.”  
  
“Raymond, I don’t think I can—”  
  
“You’ll be fine, I’ll help.”  
  
She’s highly doubtful but she lifts out the seed packets and one of the little pots held within. Just enough to start a small herb garden and wouldn’t that be lovely over by that window. Something green and alive to have all year round.  
  
“Whatever you do, don’t let me kill these.”  
  
“That’s a promise.  
  
“And thank you.”  
  
“You’re welcome.”  
  
“Alright, your turn,” and reaching under a magazine on the coffee table she pulls out a small package. “It’s not an herb garden.”  
  
He chuckles and opening one end lets a small silver keychain fall out into the palm of his hand.  
  
“There’s an inscription,” she says quietly.  
  
Holding it to the light, he attempts to read the words but finds they’re not words at all only….  
  
“Coordinates?” he asks even though he recognizes latitude and longitude immediately.  
  
“Yes. So you’ll always know where home is.”  
  
“Elizabeth….”  
  
He can’t continue. What words are there when someone gives you everything?  
  
“But knowing our life, it’s the location of the bakery up the block. I figure if you can find your way there, then you can find your way back to me.”  
  
She would ask him if he liked the gift but there is no need. Not with the way he smiles at her, a little dazed at the meaning of what she has done. He takes her hand to press a kiss there hoping she understands what he cannot say.  
  
He would ask if it signifies that one day a key would hang from it. One that she will supply when the time is right but the promise of it is everywhere but especially in the way she leans forward to brush her lips against his as she reaches for his hand, holding her gift in between.  
  
Some things take a little more time. A month or two but he will often find her there, at the little herb garden by the window, running her hand over the leaves. He’ll come up behind her and slip his arms around holding tight.  
  
“See Lizzy, all we needed was _thyme_ ,” he’ll whisper in her ear.  
  
She will always laugh at the joke, how could she not?  
  
In truth, she still doesn’t really know what to do with these herbs but she loves them here. Loves that he is here as well and can throw a smidge and a dash in whatever she gets a mind to cook.  
  
Loves so many things and just at the moment she thinks he’s going to pull away, she will bring his arms closer together.  
  
“Not yet.”  
  
A chuckle right there behind her ear and a kiss that always follows. The routine never gets old. They fought too hard to get here, to this little apartment a block and half from a bakery that points the way home.


End file.
